Another autumn had come to Fort Cromwell, New York, and
Sarah Talbot was there to see it. She sat on the front
porch of her small white house, drinking apple cinnamon
tea, wondering what to do next. The college kids next door
were washing their car. Spray from the hose misted her
face. Wrapped in a red plaid blanket, she tilted her face
to the sun, and imagined the drops were saltwater and she
was home on Elk Island.
A blue sedan drove slowly down the street. It looked
municipal, as if it might belong to an undercover police
officer or street inspector. FORT CROMWELL VNA was
stenciled on the side, and when it parked in Sarah's
driveway, a small, trim woman in a white coat climbed out.
Sarah smiled to see her.
"What are you doing here?" Sarah asked.
"That's a fine greeting," the visiting nurse said.
"I thought you were done with me," Sarah said. Holding her
blanket with one hand, she used the other to unconsciously
ruffle her closely shorn white hair.
"Done with you? My daughter would kill me. Besides, do you
think that's how I treat my friends?"
"I'm your patient, Meg," Sarah said, smiling.
"Were, Sarah. Were. We're here to take you for a ride."
"A ride? Where--" Sarah began. Glancing at the car, she
noticed Mimi in the backseat.
"Happy birthday, Sarah," Meg said, bending down to hug her.
Sarah reached up. She put her arms around the visiting
nurse and smelled her citrus-scented shampoo. Meg's
pockets jangled with keys, pens, and a stethoscope. A
colorful plastic teddy bear was pinned to her lapel, just
above her name tag. Sarah could feel by the new padding
between her bones and Meg's skin thatshe was putting on
weight. The hug felt good, and she bit her lip.
"How did you know?" Sarah asked when they pulled apart.
Today was her thirty-seventh birthday. She was having a
quiet day: no party, no cards or calls from home. In the
car's back window Mimi was waving with one hand, trying to
paste up a bright pink sign with the other. In silver
glitter she had written MANY HAPPY RETURNS OF THE DAY!
"I read your chart," Meg said, grinning. "Come on."
Will Burke stood in the hangar, his head under the hood of
the Piper Aztec. Fall was his biggest season. He needed
all three of the planes he owned serviced and ready to
fly. The lake region was a tourist destination, with all
the cider mills and foliage trails. He operated fifteen-
minute aerial tours, especially popular during the Fort
Cromwell Fair. The end of October brought parents'
weekends at two area colleges, with scheduled flights back
and forth to New York, shuttling parents to see the big
games and visit their kids.
At the sound of tires crunching over the gravel outside,
he wiped his socket wrench on a blue rag and placed it on
his tall red toolbox. He checked his watch: four o'clock.
A friend of his daughter's had booked a quick birthday
tour, up and down, a fifteen-minute scenic loop of the
lake and mountain. An easy thirty dollars, and he'd be
back to the tune-up in no time.
Tucking his work shirt into his jeans, Will walked outside
to greet his customers. He didn't really feel like taking
a break, but the afternoon was sunny, and the fresh air
felt good, so he found himself smiling at the car anyway.
He waved as they pulled up.
Meg and Mimi Ferguson got out. Meg was the town visiting
nurse, and she yelled hello with cheerful efficiency,
making Will smile a little wider. He hung back, wondering
which one had the birthday. His daughter sometimes baby-
sat for Mimi, and judging from what he remembered, Mimi
must be about ten.
But then someone new got out of the car, a woman Will had
never seen. She was small and thin, the size of an
underfed teenager. Her skin was pale and translucent, like
high cloud cover on a fall day, and her head was covered
with blond peach fuzz. It was the way she looked at the
sky that caught Will's attention: with total rapture, as
if she hadn't ever seen it so blue before, or as if she
couldn't believe she was about to go up in it.
"Ready to fly?" he asked.
"Which plane, Mr. Burke?" Mimi asked, excited.
"That one," he said, pointing at the two-seater Piper Cub.
"We can't all fit?" Mimi asked, disappointed.
"Now, Mimi--" Meg began.
"Sorry, Mimi," Will said. "The big plane's getting an oil
change. If I'd known . . ."
"You know what, Mimi?" the woman said eagerly. "Why don't
you go up for me?"
"It's your birthday flight," Mimi said. "It was my idea,
and we want you to go."
"Happy birthday," Will said to the woman.
"Thank you." Again, that expression of amazement, as if
she had never been so happy. She stared at him directly,
and he had that shock he felt when coming upon a person he
knew from somewhere, hardly at all, but who has undergone
a drastic change of appearance. A weight gain or loss, a
different hairstyle, a drop in health. He had seen this
woman around town looking quite different. Then, for some
strange reason, he pointed at the sky.
"Ready?" he asked.
"I am," she said.
"Let's go," he said. Then, speaking to Mimi in a voice he
tried to keep from sounding overly hopeful, he said, "Hey,
Susan's in the office. She'd be glad to see you."
Secret's dad had brought her to the airport. Her allergies
were out of control, and the school nurse had tried to
call her mother, but of course she wasn't home. So Secret
had told her to call Burke Aviation and ask for Will: Her
father would definitely pick her up. And he had. She'd
felt better almost immediately upon reaching the airport,
but there was no point in going back to school: the day
was almost over. She slouched at his desk, painting her
nails. Craning her neck, she could just see the action
outside, through the big window. Mimi and her mom and
their friend were standing by the landing strip, talking
to him.
Of all the kids Secret baby-sat for, Mimi was the best.
She was a nice little kid. She listened to her parents,
never tried to get Secret to pierce her ears in weird
places, and wanted to be a veterinarian when she grew up.
She had Dreams and Goals, she knew there was more to life
than Emma Turnley, the only school in this one-horse town,
just as Secret herself did.
"Hi, Susan," Mimi said, bursting through the door.
"'Susan'?" Secret said, barely looking up. "There's no one
named Susan here."
"That's right, I forgot," Mimi said, grinning. "Secret.
You changed your name. What're you doing?"
"October is the month for witchy doings, and since you
know I'm a witch, I'm painting my nails accordingly,"
Secret said patiently, as if she were explaining something
terribly obvious to a dim but cherished friend. She
wiggled her fingers at Mimi, casting a spell.
"Wow," Mimi said, admiring the artwork. Secret had used
India ink and a crow-quill pen to paint delicate
spiderwebs on her iridescent pale blue nails. Being right-
handed, her left hand was more intricately done, with
microscopic spiders clinging to the silken strands.
"You brought that lady here for her plane ride, I see,"
Secret said, looking out the window again. The airport was
tiny, and there wasn't much activity. "Was she surprised?"
"Very surprised," Mimi said. "I'm glad you suggested it."
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